by Casey Odell
“That’s not true!” she yelled, following after him. Her breath came in short spurts, she felt like she was going to faint. The thought that she was so close to losing him forever was destroying her now that it was a reality.
“Isn’t it?” He spun on her, one foot on the ramp. “Was that why it was so easy for you to take the Council up on their offer? Or was it my brother’s idea? It was to send me away, wasn’t it? You didn’t even put up a fight, did you?”
Claire just stood there, trying not to explode. Her whole body trembled with the effort. “Easy?” she said quietly as she watched him descend to the dock below. “Easy?” she said louder as she stormed after him. “It wasn’t easy, you idiot! I did it to protect you! Because I love you!” The words tumbled out of her mouth without thinking.
Farron had been halfway down the dock when he froze.
The anger in her dissipated almost immediately, the heat in her face turning into an embarrassed flush. She clamped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide in surprise. Had she just said what she thought she’d said? Before the elf could turn around, Claire dipped behind a tall stack of cargo, burying her face in her hands. The words had just sort of slipped out in the heat of the moment, but was that how she really felt?
She knew before she completed the thought, that it was.
Footsteps came around the cargo, and she knew without looking that it was him. But she couldn’t face him, not yet. Embarrassment still shook her to the core. It was how she felt about him, but to say it when he was about to leave, in the middle of a fight, no less…
“Claire,” Farron said softly. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried gently to turn her around. When she resisted, burying her face deeper in her hands, he said again, laughing, “Claire.” He managed to turn her around, but still, she wouldn’t look at him. “Claire, look at me.”
She just shook her head, afraid of the expression she would find on his face. Was it too late? Had she managed to drive him away emotionally? She couldn’t blame him if she had. She supposed she wouldn’t love him if he’d done half of what she’d put the elf through.
His hands found their way to her sides, right in the spot that was the most sensitive, and tickled her, causing her to jump in surprise.
“Fare, stop!” she shouted, her voice breaking. She finally looked up at him, and instead of a look of anger, she found his smug smile instead.
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice. He leaned down and kissed her, a light brush of lips. “Though, I didn’t expect to hear that in particular.”
Claire stood frozen in shock as reality sunk in. Was it all a ruse? Certainly, he’d meant some of what he’d said. “Why, you!” She balled her fists up again and hit him on his chest.
He laughed and grabbed her wrists.
“You weren’t really going to leave after all, were you?”
He shrugged. “I was going to wait at the end of the docks.”
Tears burst from her eyes. It took everything she had not to push him into the smelly green water.
“Just let this be a lesson, Claire. It’s not fun to be jerked around, is it?” He released her wrists and put his hands on his hips.
She shook her head.
“Next time, don’t be too stubborn to say how you really feel.”
“I did it to protect you!”
He laughed again and cupped her face in his hands. “You let me worry about them.” He placed a light kiss on her forehead.
Savoring his closeness, Claire buried her face in his chest, slipping her arms around his waist. He wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders. She still wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to keep him around, but she was deciding to be selfish. She needed him, wanted him, more than her desire for him to be safe. The answer seemed so obvious now. He was willing to put himself in harm’s way to be with her. That was his decision. It always had been. He was just too stubborn to be driven away.
“I can’t do this without you,” she said, hugging him tighter. “I don’t want to do this without you. I just wanted to protect you. To keep you safe. As long as you are with me, you won’t be. I want to let you go, but I just can’t. I know it’s selfish and unfair, but I need you. And I never thought I would say this, but I want you. Almost more than anything that I’ve ever wanted before. It’s because I love you that I wanted to let you go. And it’s because I love you that I can’t.”
Farron was quiet for a moment, probably trying to absorb all of the things she had just said. His hand stroked her hair. “We all do foolish things for love, Claire.”
“Even you?” she teased, wiping her cheeks dry. She already knew the answer to that one. For all of the things he had done and went through to be with her, he was the most foolish of them all.
Farron pushed her back so she could look up at him. He raised an eyebrow and just looked at her like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “I am still here, aren’t I?”
Crates of fish with red scales and blue gills were everywhere. It was safe to say that they were in the right place. Linesbrough, home of The Fisherman’s Guild, and possible location of her mother, or trap... Much drearier than the port they’d left, the town might have been beautiful somewhere under the mud and algae built up on the streets and walls. The docks were busy despite the smaller size. Alexos not being much further north, most ships probably kept going to the bigger city, skipping over Linesbrough entirely.
But despite all that, Linesbrough wasn’t completely without charm. The people seemed warm and friendly enough. The buildings reminded her of home— simple and functional, wood and plaster, though they had once been painted bright colors, muted by time and weather.
Mud squished underneath her boots as she walked down the main street. The men spread out around her, scanning the crowd for anything suspicious. Farron followed close behind, a dark cloak masking his features and hiding a multitude of weapons, possibly making him look even more intimidating than he usually did. He’d bought a cloak for her as well from a merchant by the docks, and although it effectively hid her face, the long length trailed on the ground, making her look like a child trying on her mother’s clothes. But she tried her best to deal with it. It was only temporary, and although not perfect, it did offer some sort of disguise in case any Syndicate agents were actively looking for her.
It wasn’t hard to find clues about a woman with fiery hair and a personality to match. And although she’d changed her name, going by Sylvia these days, nearly everyone they’d asked had known almost instantly who she was searching for. Her mother had garnered quite the reputation in this town as well, turning the tavern she worked in, The Dancing Dwarf, into somewhat of an overnight sensation. If she had wanted to remain hidden, well, she didn’t seem to be doing such a good job of it.
In fact, it was almost too easy. Claire thought again how all this could just be a trap set for her. She had her guards, but the Syndicate would stop at nothing to try and get their hands on her. She’d made sure the men knew the risks, but she was determined to see none of them get hurt, or killed, because of her.
The Dancing Dwarf was taller than the name implied. Three stories stretched higher than the surrounding buildings, each level smaller than the last, painted a dull green. The swinging sign out front displayed a jolly, dancing dwarf playing a flute.
But it wasn’t the front door they would be using. If it was a trap, that was what they would expect. Claire and Farron circled around to the back of the tavern, into a dank, dim alley that smelled none-too-pleasant, filled with empty barrels and crates. Graham and Chet came back around the building to keep a look-out, while Alan and Zeriod entered to pose as patrons inside. Farron tried the simple door that probably led into a storeroom or kitchen, but it was locked. Captain Bahadur paced up and down the alleyway.
“This is foolish,” he said, a look of anger clear on his face, though that wasn’t anything new. “This is a trap, and you know it.”
Claire lo
oked up at him, then to Farron. She couldn’t see the elf’s face, but she knew he shared the captain’s reservations. It may have been foolish to come here, but she just had to make sure. With or without their help. “I told you and your men the risks,” she said to the captain. “Walk away now if you want, I won’t stop you. But you will not stop me from going in there.” She pointed toward the tavern.
The captain sighed, but kept pacing, lingering at each corner of the building, most likely to check up on his men.
Claire looked back at the door. The locked one. Now they just had to figure out a way to get in. Farron backed up a few steps and looked up. Was he thinking of climbing? She wasn’t sure how well she could do that. The front door seemed less dangerous to her. But before she could prepare for either, Farron perked up and slinked to the side of the door, motioning her behind him and for the captain to sidle up to the other side. A moment later the handle jiggled, followed by the click of a lock. The door eased open and a short middle-aged man with graying brown hair backed through, trying his best to pull a barrel out after him, cursing under his breath. Farron nodded to the captain, and before the poor man even knew it, he was on the ground with an elf and angry man with an eye patch on top of him, silencing him with the threat of a blade. The man nodded, his eyes wide, and slid up against the wall when he was released. Captain Bahadur kept his sword trained on the man as Farron slipped in through the door, Claire following close behind. She breathed a silent sigh of relief. Well, at least that had been easy. No climbing up the sides of buildings for her today. She just hoped no one would be missing the man too soon and come looking for him.
The room was indeed a storage room, lit by a lone lantern in the corner. Wine casks and barrels of ale were stacked up to the ceiling along the walls and scattered about haphazardly. The disorganization would never have been allowed in her mother’s tavern. If she really was here, how had she let this happen?
Claire shook the thought from her head. She had more important matters at hand. A cacophony of male voices drifted in through the doorway across from them, the door askew.
She eased quietly up to the door and peeked through the thin crack. A dark hallway separated them from the main large room. Her eyes searched frantically through the small opening, unable to take the next step and actually open the door and walk down the hallway to look into the tavern. What if she really wasn’t there? What if it was all just a trap? Her heart beat in her throat so thick she could hardly breathe. She was so close, but still so far away.
Farron gripped her shoulders, making her jump a little. “I’m right behind you,” he whispered close to her ear.
“If she is here,” she said quietly, turning to look up at him. “Please don’t mention about… you know… the mark, what it’s doing to me. I don’t want her to worry.”
He was silent for a moment, his face deep in shadow. “Of course.”
Claire turned and put her hand on the door, ready to ease it open when she was frozen in her tracks by a deep throaty laugh— one she recognized instantly, one she had heard all of her life— moving down the hallway, towards the storage room and to her. But instead of rushing through the door and throwing herself into her mother’s arms, she backed up against the wall. Farron mirrored her stance on the other side of the doorway, almost disappearing completely into the shadows. It was unsettling how he did that so easily.
The door squealed open on its hinges and the woman with the throaty laugh stepped through, her red hair glinting like fire in the lamplight, cursing a man named Carl— their hostage, Claire presumed— for taking so long. Claire stood frozen against the wall as she looked upon her mother for the first time in months. It took her several moments before she could find her voice again.
“Mother,” she managed to croak out.
Marion whirled around, her eyes wide as she finally spotted Claire’s cloaked form. She looked older than Claire remembered but no less beautiful. The bags under her eyes were darker, the lines around her mouth a little deeper, but her hair was the same vibrant shade, only with a few strands of gray throughout. She wore a simple barmaid’s dress in muted browns and white, that showed off more cleavage than she’d ever seen her mother display.
Claire lowered her hood and stepped forward into the light. Marion gasped, a hand going up to her mouth, but before she could utter a single word, Claire was in her arms. She held her mother tight, tears streaming down her cheeks, hardly believing she was real, that she had finally found her. But it was nothing compared to the tightness of her mother’s arms around her. Claire thought she would squeeze the life right out of her.
“Claire,” Marion whispered. “My dear, sweet Claire.”
Farron eased the door closed and stepped out of the shadows. Her mother started and turned Claire away from him as if to protect her.
“Who is he?” she asked, her voice on edge.
“He’s fine, he’s with me,” Claire said, assuring her mother.
Marion’s shoulders relaxed, but she still looked hesitant, not that Claire could blame her. She whirled around to look at Claire, holding her out at arm’s length. “What in the world are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. I had to… ever since you left me that night… I didn’t give up…” Too many thoughts came to her at once and she couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. “But I finally did.”
For one of the few times in her life, Claire saw tears in her mother’s eyes. She pulled Claire back into her arms. “You’re safe,” she said softly. “I knew they would protect you.” She pulled back again and looked Claire over again, inspecting. “But you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe here.”
“I know.” She motioned around her. “I wouldn’t have resorted to this if I didn’t.”
Her mother nodded in approval. Conflicting emotions played across her face. Happiness, worry, a hint of anger.
“I had to know…” Claire said softly. “That you were all right.”
Marion pulled her back into her arms, hugging her tight. “I told you this old broad could take care of herself, didn’t I?” She stroked Claire’s hair. “And although I am glad to see that you are safe, I did send you away for a reason that night.” She pulled back and raised Claire’s face up to look at her, a hand on either side. The look in her green eyes was intense. “Did… did they protect you?”
Claire nodded. They had, in a way. It was a long story, and she eventually wanted to tell her mother everything, even about the scar and what the mark was doing to her, but there was no time for that now.
“Sylvia,” sloshed a gruff voice from the hallway. “My dear Sylvia, where have you gone?”
Marion sighed and just shook her head. Claire could feel the corners of her mouth lift into a smile. She wondered how many men serenaded her here, in this small port town, as well.
The man had barely gotten a foot in the door when Farron grabbed him by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall, a blade against his neck. The man’s eyes bulged out of his balding head, his mouth agape, his rather rotund body frozen in shock. Farron kicked the door closed again with his foot.
“You even breathe loudly, I’ll give you a new mouth,” Farron growled.
The man nodded ever so slightly.
Marion raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I like him.” She nodded to the tall cloaked elf. “I’ve been trying to make Walt here be quiet for the past month to no avail.”
Claire just rolled her eyes. If only her mother knew…
“Listen,” her mother said, her voice growing grim. She pulled Claire away from the man so he couldn’t hear. “You can’t stay here. As glad as I am to see you, you shouldn’t have come. They watch me.”
Just as she’d thought. The Syndicate was keeping their eyes on her. Using her as bait. “Come with me then,” she said, taking her mother’s hand. “I can find a place where the Syndicate won’t find you again.”
“You know?” Her mother’s eyes grew wide again, but then she relaxed. “Of co
urse you know. By the looks of it, you probably know more than me. But still, you should leave. They could be watching even now.” She started to pull Claire towards the door leading out to the alley, where she would find yet another surprise waiting for her.
“Sylvie, wa—” The drunk man was cut short and both Claire and Marion spun back around to see him slump down to the floor. Claire gasped. Had Farron really just killed the poor man?
Farron just held a familiar looking little black spine up in front of him, calming her fears instantly. Although it was better than death, the poor man didn’t warrant being poisoned.
Her mother just grunted in a satisfied, amused way. “I could use some of those,” she said matter-of-factly. Then her eyes narrowed, focusing on Farron as if really looking at him for the first time, wondering who accompanied her daughter. “Just who are you, anyway? Have you been protecting my daughter?”
“You could say that.” Claire could hear the smugness in his voice, making her sigh audibly. He dropped his hood then and stepped toward them. “Glad to finally make your acquaintance,” he said, bowing like a gentleman, making a show of it. But Claire knew better. He straightened and gave her a smile. “I have heard—”
“I know you,” her mother said, tensing, her voice surprisingly breathy. She stood in front of Claire again, keeping her close. “I know of you,” she corrected herself. “With hair like that, there is no way that you are not him. The Syndicate has been whispering about you for years…”
Had Claire been the only one that hadn’t heard about him?
“What do you want with my daughter?” The question was almost a threat coming from her mother.
“It’s not what you think,” Claire answered for him. Marion may have an easier time accepting the truth if it came from her. Her mother turned to look at her with worried eyes. “It’s a lot to explain, but I promise you, he is on our side.”
Marion exchanged glances between them, and although she didn’t relax completely, she did ease slightly. Claire couldn’t wait to tell her mother the reality of her relationship with the elf…